Page 66 of Hot As Ice

Derek fishes out his phone. “Give me your number. Or at least let me follow you on your socials.”

I tell him my number and he inputs it into his phone, then texts me so I have his number too. Yeah, I don’t think Hunter would like me giving my number to another guy, but I’m feeling reckless for some reason. Sometimes I want to push Hunter’s buttons, because then he gets angry and the resulting sex is unbelievable.

And I know a part of me is doing this to get my mind off Joe being here tonight, and the fact that I haven’t done anything to try to stop him. I chance a glance back to where Joe was sitting earlier. He’s still there, still looking at me with pure hatred in his eyes. I tug on a strand of my hair, twisting it around my fingers. I look away again, trying to get lost in the noise and energy of the bar.

Derek teases Becca about her “Dump Him” t-shirt, and the guy she’s been talking to (his name is Paul) tells her he loves it. I let Becca hold court and give them a whole speech about how “dump him” is always good advice.

The next time I look toward Joe, he’s gone, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

twenty-one

hunter

WE’RE ON A CRAZY WINNING STREAK.

And it feels fucking amazing.

Sometimes I want to pinch myself, because the past two months have been a really good time in my life. The guys are all going extra-hard with all their little rituals and superstitions too. Nobody wants this momentum to stop.

When I’m on the ice, my mind is nothing but hockey, hockey, hockey. Even if I wanted to think about something else, I couldn’t, because I’m skating hard as fuck, like my life depends on it, my eyes following that little rubber disc as if there’s nothing more important in the world. And in those moments, there isn’t.

I’ve always loved how hockey clears my mind.

I know non-athletes probably can’t fathom pushing your body so hard, risking injury, and taking nonstop hits from big, burly guys for an hour, but for me it’s like therapy. It’s where I take out all my frustrations and stress. There’s almost nothing like it. Except really hot sex with Stevie.

“He’s fearless,” the hockey announcer on the TV says. “Always heading to the net and he doesn’t hesitate to shoot.”

“Yeah, Simon,” his co-announcer replies. “Three goals and two assists. That’s a five-point night. You can really see why he’s their star player.”

They’re talking about me.

I don’t always care what the announcers say when I watch our replays, but I can’t pretend I’m not proud of myself and my team for killing it so far this season.

Jamie, Ryder, Martinez, and Sean are over at my place watching the replay of our game from last night. It was a 6-1 win against UConn. Martinez made 31 saves, only letting one goal in, and that was on a power play.

The announcers go particularly crazy over a spectacular save he made in the third period. Martinez grins ear-to-ear as he hears the call.

“Damn right,” he says, rising from his seat. “I’m unstoppable.” He deepens his voice and spreads his arms wide. “You shall not pass!”

“You were amazing, bro,” I tell him. “You all were,” I add, addressing the others. “If we keep this up, we’re in the Frozen Four for sure.”

“Fuck yeah,” Ryder says. “We will be.”

“Don’t jinx it,” Sean admonishes, looking panicked.

Ryder rolls his eyes. “I’m not jinxing anything. Relax.”

“You make fun of me for being too superstitious, but I’m telling you, man, my lucky socks, the necklace my ex gave me, and the bacon, eggs, and avocado I eat every morning are working.”

Ryder looks at Sean like he’s crazy. I catch his eye and slightly shake my head, telling him without words to leave Sean alone. If Sean’s superstitions help him play better, I’m not going to make fun of him for having them. Let him believe what he believes. We’re winning and that’s all that matters. Ryder sighs and nods at me.

The guys start talking smack about the other team’s plays.

I check my phone, hoping to see a text from Stevie, but there’s nothing yet. We talked yesterday and it was good. I don’t know why I want to see a text from her every second I’m not with her, but I do. And it pisses me off.

I’ve been spending as much time with her as I can between games and class, but it never seems like enough. If she was my wife, she would be in my house, and I could see her, talk to her, and fuck her more often.

Thinking about marrying her leads me to think about my father’s new marriage and the feelings that come over me are overwhelming. His stupid party is coming up sooner than I’d like. I wish I had a game that day or something else that could be used as a plausible excuse to miss it. Like maybe hospitalization. Yeah, the prospect of celebrating my father’s marriage is less appealing than being hospitalized.